Survive
by Setsana
Summary: "She lost her voice long before she lost her family to this illness of death. She couldn't save them, but even a broken world can offer people a second chance. She wanted to protect this new family, to make good on this chance at redemption, but it could mean breaking her promise. It could mean losing her life." A mute Cherokee girl tries to keep her promise to survive. OC story.
1. But I Have Promises To Keep

**Disclaimer: The Walking Dead and its characters belong to Robert Kirkman (and AMC). All OCs belong to me.**

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But I Have Promises To Keep

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**The woods are lovely, dark and deep,  
But I have promises to keep,  
And miles to go before I sleep  
And miles to go before I sleep  
****_Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost_**

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Keira was tired of blood.

There was too much of it nowadays. She didn't like how it stained her clothes. She didn't like how it stuck to her skin.

She didn't like how it oozed from the small body in her arms.

Keira was tired of blood, tired of running, tired of fighting for her life. She just wanted to lay down her arms and rest. She wanted to let it all end but—

"_You're gonna live for the both of us, okay?"_

But she made a promise.

Shaking, she brought the small body closer and put her ear to its chest for what felt like the millionth time, hoping against all odds that she would hear the light thump of a heartbeat. But Keira knew it was dead; she had delivered the final blow. Slowly, she pulled away, chancing a glance at the once angelic face: skin covered in dirt, a small hole caked with blood where her knife had pierced its forehead, and glassy dead eyes. She turned and vomited in the grass beside her.

The area was quiet, save for the sound of Keira emptying the contents of her stomach. The hot Georgia sun was unrelenting today, and with the heat came the smell of death that almost had her vomiting again. Figures, with all those corpses lying around, rotting in the sun for hours. Hours. Had it only been that long? She felt as though she'd been sitting there shaking for days. The undead had come in the night, had caught her off guard, and if she just hadn't dozed off, if she hadn't gotten too comfortable, there could have been one less corpse in that yard.

Carefully, she turned back to the body and brought her hand to its face, gently pulling the eyelids closed. That's when she remembered the necklace; a little wooden owl totem strung on a piece of twine. Keira thought about the day she had spent hand carving that necklace: she was sitting in a yard not unlike this one, hair pulled back and a good ten splinters in her hand, squinting hard as she completed the fine details. She remembered giving the little totem away to the person she held most dear.

Doing her best not to break down, she pulled the neck of the shirt down on the body. There it was, even after five years, still lying against the once beating heart. With a tenderness she didn't know she still had, she untied the twine and pulled the necklace away. Perhaps it was selfish to remove it, but now, as alone as she was, she needed the little totem much more than the dead body before her. A body, that's all it was. Just an empty shell that used to hold a beautiful spirit. A spirit she hoped was far away by now.

_Wherever you are, please don't ever look back at this dreadful place._

Keira realized she was no longer crying. Perhaps her well of tears had dried up.

_This isn't the world I wanted you to live in, let alone die in._

She looked down at the bloody body again. She took its hand in hers and just held on.

_Don't look back, okay? You don't need to watch over me. I promise I'll look after myself, I promise I'll stay alive for the both of us. I promise._

Keira took the body into her arms once more and closed her eyes, trying to remember what an embrace used to feel like. She could do this; she had to at least try.

She jumped when she heard something break the nearly impenetrable silence. Footsteps; dry grass crunching beneath someone's shoes.

"Hey… hey are you alright?"

Keira slowly turned towards the sound of the stranger's voice. He was tall and thin, blond hair in a buzz cut and arms covered in tattoos. He was armed only with a hunting knife as he approached her cautiously. When he caught sight of the body cradled in her arms, he stopped his approach altogether.

"Oh my God… Hey, come on, are you okay? Are you bitten?"

She shook her head, still staring at him. He looked at the carnage surrounding them.

"You do all this?" he asked, gesturing to the rotting corpses. Keira nodded.

"Jesus. Ok, well, uh… Do you maybe wanna—wanna come with me? You look like you need some help. I'm with a little group just up the road. If you want we could, uh, get you cleaned up. Maybe get some food in you? You look like you could use a good night's sleep too."

She nodded again, dazed.

He looked at her quizzically. "Can you talk?"

She couldn't bear to look at him as she shook her head.

"Well, that might be for the best anyway. Gonna need to be real quiet if we wanna get back safely. Come on then, it's okay."

He walked over to her, always with caution. With her nodded consent, he picked up her duffel bag and burlap sack, hoisting them over his shoulder. Keira picked up her bow and slung it onto her back alongside her quiver before slowly and carefully lifting the small weightless body. She followed the man as he led her away from the yard. She could debate on his trustworthiness later. For now, she would just try to stay alive.

_I promise._

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**A/N: My Walking Dead withdrawal syndrome pushed me to FINALLY start posting this story. This chapter's a little short, but it's a prologue of sorts, so don't worry chapters will be longer.**

**This is going to be an emotional (yet still action-packed) ride, so BUCKLE UP FOLKS!**

**Please review! :D**


	2. All That's Left

**A/N: Thank you for the faves, follows and especially reviews!**

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All That's Left

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Keira walked in silence. She followed her guide as he led her along the edge of the road, close to the underbrush that would offer them emergency cover. They'd been walking for just under an hour before reaching Interstate 85. The stranger turned onto the highway and slowed his pace, releasing the breath he seemed to have been holding the whole way there.

He threw a glance over his shoulder, checking to see if she was keeping up. "Well, we're in the clear now. This place is pretty isolated. Those things haven't come close to this area."

_Nowhere is 'in the clear',_ she thought numbly._ If we can get here, so can they. There isn't a safe place in the world._

"I'm sorry for the long walk," he added. "I didn't expect to pick up any passengers, and I don't usually take one of the cars unless absolutely necessary. Figured I'd save gas for emergencies. Name's Martin, by the way; what's yours?"

Keira just continued to stare blankly at the endless path of concrete before her.

Martin's face fell. "Right, you don't talk. I guess we were being so quiet earlier that I couldn't really notice." His eyes fell on the little body in her arms. "I'm sorry about your friend."

Her gaze returned to the corpse that she carried, its frame limp and weightless, the blood now dried and caked onto the skin.

"He's… he's not your kid, is he?" Martin asked carefully. "I mean, just the way you're holding onto him… But you don't look old enough to be his mom. You must be, what, 18? 19? Your brother, then?"

Keira came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road. _This isn't my little brother, this is just what's left of him. This is just what he left behind after passing on._ But she found that the more she tried to accept that he was gone, the tighter she clutched his body to her own. A hand on her arm startled her from her reverie and she found Martin looking at her apologetically. He didn't say anything else. He didn't need to.

They continued on the road for a few more minutes before finally coming to a stop. Keira looked up to see a two-story L-shaped building, its parking lot barren save for two cars and a worn-down sign: **Welcome Inn**.

A young woman emerged from the building and spotted them entering the lot. "Martin, thank God! We were worried you—"

The woman froze, taking notice of Keira and the little boy in her arms. "Oh my God, is he hurt?" she asked rushing over.

Martin stopped her from coming any closer. "He's dead, Jess," he said quietly, trying to turn her away from the gruesome sight. "Go in and tell the others I'm back. We'll be in the yard."

The woman couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the body, but eventually retreated into the motel. Martin brought Keira around the building until they reached a large backyard that led off into a forest some 50 meters behind it. Walking around an empty in-ground pool, they came to a poorly fenced-off area in the corner of the lot. Four makeshift graves lay within, wooden crosses marking their place. Martin put down her bags and went to grab a shovel from the nearby shed. Keira hesitated before gently laying her brother's body on the ground, somehow missing the feel of his cold skin. She reached into her duffel bag and took out a bottle of water and a torn shirt. She poured water on the shirt and set to work, wiping her brother's face and arms clean of the blood and grime that had collected there.

Martin soon returned and marked a place for the new grave with the end of the shovel. "You okay with burying him here?" he asked. "I know it's not a real cemetery, and the next church isn't for another few miles, but he at least deserves a proper burial."

Keira nodded. _They all deserve a proper burial, _she thought, _but in a world where the living are all trying to survive, who has the time to worry about the dead?_

"Right then," Martin said. "I'll get started."

But before he could land a blow to the earth with his shovel, Keira was up and in front of him. He watched her in confusion as she reached for the shovel and wrenched it from his grasp. She stabbed the shovel into the ground, lifted the dirt and tossed it off to the side.

"You sure you don't want me to help?" Martin asked. His only response was the rhythmic sound of her digging. Stab, lift, toss. Stab, lift, toss.

It was hours before she was able to carefully lower her brother's body into the grave, and a couple more before she finished refilling it. She did the work quickly and without thought, certain that she would have broken down if she realized just what she was doing. Keira turned to find Martin standing nearby. He handed her a crude wooden cross, just like the others that decorated the little graveyard. She kneeled on the ground and pushed one end into the dirt. Taking the hunting knife strapped to her boot, she carved into the cross:

**Ethan  
****Asequui**

_Goodbye little brother, you've earned your rest_. She barely registered Martin helping her up and leading her into the motel. He sat her down on one of the couches in the lobby and handed her a glass of water, taking a seat next to her. The cool of the glass was soothing in her hands, and for a moment Keira just stared into the water, collecting herself. _No use crying if I've run out of tears. No point in grieving if I cannot cry. _It was a harsh mantra, but it was the one she needed. Now, she needed to start making good on her promise. _Use the past to remind you of where you're going, _she told herself, _but don't let it stop you from getting there._

Keira's eyes wandered the room before falling on the young woman from before, whom she hadn't even noticed sitting on the next couch. She took the chance to actually look her this time: dirty blond hair styled nicely just past her shoulders, big blue eyes and a fair complexion. More than anything, though, the 20-something-year-old looked fragile and out of place. She was very pretty, but just looking at her made you wonder how she made it this far. _Then again, best not to judge by appearance_.

The woman noticed her staring. "My name's Jessica," she introduced herself. "I'm very sorry about your brother."

"Would ya stop sayin' that?" a booming voice added. Keira turned to see two men enter from another room. The first was obviously the owner of the voice, a large man in his 50s or 60s with a generous beard and a stern face. The other man was somewhere in his 20s, sporting an open vest and what looked like a mullet.

"Between the two of ya, the girl's prolly been hearin' stuff like that all day," the first man continued. "Sayin' sorry does nuthin' but remind the person that they got sumthin' to feel bad about." He looked down at her. "Name's Roy, I own the place. Or I did, back when it meant sumthin' to own a place. Guess now it's just a glorified bunker." He looked around sadly at the room and let out a tired sigh.

"Anyway, you've met Martin and Jess there. This here's Wade," he gestured to the other man who was now helping himself to a beer. "You met my wife Angela out there in the graveyard; she's the pretty little cross on the far left."

Keira was surprised at the man's bluntness. Or perhaps it was bravery, to be able to be so light-hearted about a thing like that.

"So what kinda redskin are ya, anyway?" Wade rudely interjected. She whipped her head around to glare at him. If looks could kill, he would've been dead and undead in seconds. Instead, he flopped down completely unfazed onto the couch beside Jessica, much to her obvious annoyance.

Roy shot him a look. "The hell kinda question is that, ya racist idiot?"

Wade just shrugged. "I dunno, I was curious. But I guess Indian is Indian, dun really matter what kind they are."

Keira felt her anger rising in her body. She couldn't deal with this, not now. Jessica noticed her discomfort and jumped in. "So, Martin said you can't speak. Do you know sign language? I learned ASL in college; I might be a bit rusty but I should be able to understand."

Though relieved that she would have somewhat of a voice, Keira couldn't help the small pang of sadness that shot through her: Ethan used to be the only one who could communicate with her.

She signed to Jessica: "**My name is Keira.**"

Jessica's face lit up, excited that she understood. "It's nice to meet you, Keira."

Roy gave her a long look before speaking again. "Well then, Keira, yer welcome to stick around. We've got plenty of room. You any good with those?" He gestured to the bow still slung across her back and the tomahawk attached to her hip. She nodded yes. "Well good, cause we may have room but provisions are scarce. If ya wanna stay here, yer gonna have to contribute."

Martin turned to Roy looking shocked. "Roy, you can't actually expect her to go on food runs or go hunting! She's just a kid!"

"**I'm 18,**" Keira signed, but Jessica was too busy watching Roy and Martin to translate.

"Who're you kiddin', boy?" Roy said, laughing. "There ain't no more kids in this world. All that's left is soldiers and old men who wish they'd died young." He shared a knowing look with Keira. "Hell, what we got here is a warrior, armed to the teeth. And I dunno bout you, but I never look a gift horse in the mouth. Whaddaya say then, soldier? We got ourselves a deal?"

She nodded in agreement.

Jessica, hoping to remove herself from the awkwardly tense room, rose and grabbed one of Keira's bags from where it sat near the door. "Come on, Keira, let's get you a room." Keira took the other bag and followed her up the stairs. She was shown to a small room with a bed, a dresser, a television and an adjoining bathroom. Jessica pointed out her own room before leaving her with a quiet 'good night'. _Is it night already?_ She looked out the window to see the moon against the endless darkness of the sky. _The night is dangerous. _Keira left her room quietly, walking down the hall and out onto the rear balcony. She removed her bow from her back and an arrow from her quiver, taking a seat on a wooden chair. She looked down at her little brother's grave before turning her gaze to the edge of the forest. _Don't get too comfortable, don't let your guard down, don't let it happen again._

She didn't sleep in the motel that night, nor any night after.

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**A/N: Hmm, well that was a tad depressing.**

**So I always wanted Keira to have the bow, but I will admit that the tomahawk was totally because of Assassin's Creed 3. I knew she needed a close range weapon, I originally wanted an axe, but the tomahawk is lighter and will tie in as an important item later hopefully.**

**Next chapter we encounter the Atlanta group! Hooray!**

**Please review! You guys are my motivation! :D**


	3. First Impressions

**A/N: Hooray for reviews and faves and follows! Thanks people! :D**

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First Impressions

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A little over a week had passed since Keira was brought to the motel. She held up her end of the deal with Roy, setting out into the woods every day to hunt and bring back a rabbit or a bird or some other animal to skin and eat for dinner. She disliked the birds the most; they were a nice challenge to hunt, but picking out their feathers was a chore. She rarely encountered the dead, and when she did they were dealt with swiftly. It was easier that way.

The rest of her days were spent working, finding anything she could to keep her busy. She had taken to making her own arrows from the wood that Martin chopped down, whittling and sharpening them mindlessly, sometimes for hours. Keira still didn't sleep in the motel at night. She would stay awake on the balcony with weapons in hand, gazing at the edge of the forest and keeping watch. Her only rest came from passing out from exhaustion for a few hours, before her own paranoia woke her early enough to watch the sunrise. On nights that she felt sure that her body wouldn't give out on her, she would wrap herself in a blanket and walk over to the little graveyard to spend the night sitting next to her brother, clutching the little owl totem she still wore around her neck. She pretended that she could still sing him to sleep, that she still had a voice to say "I love you", that she still had a brother to say that to. And when she felt her heart breaking in the early hours of the morning, she would pretend she still had tears to shed.

The others seemed uncomfortable with her behaviour, but for the most part they let her be. Martin was the only one who still tried to get through to her, often talking to her while they did chores. She learned that he had been in the military reserve prior to the outbreak, that he didn't have much of a family growing up, and that he had lost his best friend to the disease.

He still didn't know a thing about her.

Jessica, on the other hand, chose to keep her distance. Keira would watch the woman shuffle around the motel sometimes with the most terrified look in her eyes. She tried to hide it from the others, but she was afraid of the world around her. And when her gaze finally landed on Keira, she would frown and look away, because to her she was just a reminder of how much a person could lose. She knew Keira had seen so many more of the horrors of the world, and so somehow hoped that staying away from her meant staying away from the cruel reality. Instead, Jessica took to staying inside and doing "woman's work", as Wade had put it. Wade; Keira couldn't understand why Roy had kept him around this long. He did nothing save for occasionally helping Martin with the heavy lifting; the man was nothing but an extra mouth to feed. _A mouth that would be better sewn shut,_ she thought. It was no secret that he was racist, and regardless of her value to the group he made sure to remind her every day of what he thought of Indians. Many of her days were spent daydreaming of her tomahawk embedded in his skull.

Keira gathered the last of her newly made arrows and packed them into her quiver. She found Roy in the lobby and alerted him that she was going hunting with a quick gesture towards her bow. He offered a short nod of understanding and went back to looking at the variety of maps laid out before him. To any regular person, it would look like he was trying to plan the groups next move, but even in the short time she had known him, Keira knew he would never leave this place. He could never leave his fortress.

She removed her shoes before leaving the motel and heading into the forest. The grass was cool beneath her feet, and she took a moment to enjoy the sensation. The forest was silent around her as she crept deeper into it, keeping her eyes peeled for any sort of movement. The occasional bird caught her attention, but she continued forwards, not bothering to track their ever-echoing sounds. Rather she found a comfortable area on somewhat high ground, took a deep breath, and listened. At first, there was nothing, but then a small animal made the fatal mistake of making a sudden movement. Keira quickly followed the sound and caught the moving shrubbery in her sights. She nocked an arrow, drew back and fired. She rushed down to retrieve her prize: an Eastern Cottontail. She removed the arrow and tied the rabbit by its hind legs, letting some of the blood drain before attaching it to her waist and continuing on. She had to be careful not to let the blood trail so as not to lead any undead straight to her. The blood would dry soon and they may lose the scent, but risking it was out of the question.

Keira spent another hour or so in the woods, managing to catch another rabbit and a raccoon, before heading back. A squirrel had evaded one of her arrows but she decided against going after it; squirrels were quick and too unpredictable. She was barely 20 steps away from the edge of the forest, the motel sitting just within her sight, when she heard it: the distinct sound of wheels rolling against the paved road. A quick look told her that all three cars belonging to her group were still parked in the lot.

_Which means someone else is here_.

She crept closer towards the motel but stayed hidden in the forest and watched as a caravan of vehicles rolled to a stop in front of the Welcome Inn. A man in a police uniform came out of one of the vehicles, followed closely by another man with short shaggy hair. Keira strained her ears to hear their conversation.

"What do you think?" the man in the uniform asked quietly.

"Might as well check it out," the other man replied, "look for supplies, grab what we can while we can."

The police officer seemed to agree. The two were joined by a young Asian man and another man wielding a crossbow. They spoke quietly amongst themselves for a moment before preparing their weapons and moving towards the motel. Keira panicked; she either needed to warn one of her own people or get these ones to stop their advance, but both situations ran the risk of them shooting her if she surprised them. Thankfully, luck seemed to have been on her side as Roy chose that moment to open up the front door, brandishing his own shotgun. The men aimed their weapons at him, and he returned the favour.

"Who the hell are you people?" Roy questioned.

The group of men looked at one another in surprise; clearly they hadn't expected to run into another living person.

The police officer spoke up. "We're just survivors, like you."

Roy looked at the men, sizing each of them up, before making his own silent decision. He lowered his weapon just enough to make a point, but not so far that he couldn't draw it up quickly once more. "You can put those weapons away then, officer," he said, noting the man's uniform. "I ain't got a reason to shoot ya unless ya gimme one."

The police officer looked to the shaggy-haired man and nodded, lowering his gun as he gestured to the others to do the same. The man with the crossbow seemed reluctant to do so, but finally consented.

"We didn't mean to threaten you," the officer apologized, "we just thought we'd stop to look for some supplies."

"And I suppose knockin' on the door and askin' like a regular person was out of the question, huh?" Roy said with a bark of laughter, knowing full well that the world just didn't work that way anymore. "You got more people back there?" He asked, gesturing towards the vehicles.

"What's it to you, old man?" the man with the crossbow asked defensively. Keira observed him shift back and forth slightly and adjusted her own crouched stance; she could tell he was just itching to raise his weapon again.

The officer told the man to calm down before returning to Roy. "Yes, we have others."

"How many?"

The officer hesitated for a second. "Eleven in total," he finally answered.

"Eleven, huh? Quite the road trip you've got goin' on there."

The shaggy-haired man stepped forward. "Alright, enough with all these questions. What do you want?"

Roy glared at the man. "If I remember correctly, it was you who came to my door ready to raid the place. If anyone has a right to ask questions, it's me." He turned back to the officer. "I'll make it simple: you've got a lot of people, I've got a lot of room. Night's around the corner; you go drivin' with four sets of headlights shinin' bright as day, yer bound to draw some attention. See what I'm gettin' at?"

The officer looked at him in disbelief. "Are you offering us a place to stay?" he asked incredulously.

"Fer now. Can't spare many supplies, but I could at least give ya a bed to sleep on."

Keira was suspicious. Roy's reasons for keeping her around were clear; she knew how to hunt, he needed the food. But she could not decipher his motives behind taking in eleven strangers.

The police officer and the shaggy-haired man argued quietly, but ultimately the officer seemed to have won. "We'd appreciate that," he said.

Roy finally set his gun down on the porch. "Come on, then," he said, gesturing to the vehicles again.

The officer motioned for the rest of his group to pull the vehicles into the lot. Keira looked on as a several people pulled up and exited the vehicles: an older man, a short-haired woman with a young girl, a Black man, a pretty blond woman.

And a young boy at his mother's side.

She couldn't tell what she was feeling, if it was joy or envy or something else entirely, but seeing the boy sent a shock through her heart.

Keira didn't even notice that she'd taken a few steps closer until she saw the boy look in her direction. For a moment, she could do nothing but stare back as he tried to see her through the trees, and it wasn't until his eyes grew wide in fear that she snapped out of it.

"Dad, walker!"

Every weapon was aimed at her.

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**A/N: AND THEN ANDREA GETS TRIGGER HAPPY AND KILLS HER THE END! Kidding, of course, Andrea just bothers me. This chapter is significantly less depressing! Huzzah! And I'm really growing fond of Roy and his sarcastic humourous suspicious weirdness. And oh my goodness, I can't tell you how much of a pain it is to have to write Shane as "the shaggy-haired man" and Daryl as "the man with the crossbow". :P**

**Finally figured out how to properly intro our favourite Atlanta group, and now the fun begins!**

**PLEASE REVIEW! :D**


	4. Tales of Woe

**A/N: Hmm... I've been gone a while, huh? Apologies for that, but you know, school and stuff. Here, have this obnoxiously long chapter for being so patient with me. :)**

**I should also probably point out that this is taking place between Season 1 and 2. I added a couple days to the timeline.**

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Tales of Woe

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Keira jumped behind a tree as one of the strangers fired, the leaves on the ground where she previously stood scattering under the bullet's impact.

"Jesus, lady, hold yer fire!" she heard Roy shout.

"There was a walker!" the woman shot back.

A voice that she recognized as the man with the crossbow spoke up. "You ever seen a walker move that fast?"

There was a moment of silence, then the sound of gravel crunching under someone's feet as they moved closer. "That you, Keira?" Roy asked.

She gave a sharp, pronounced whistle in response, not daring to move until she was sure that she wouldn't be shot at again.

"It's just one o' mine, put yer damn weapons down," he called to the group. "Now get out here, soldier, so's they don't try to shoot ye again."

Keira came out from behind the tree and moved towards the group. They watched carefully as she approached, some of the adults sizing her up, gauging if she was a threat, but ultimately seeming to decide she wasn't. Her eyes glanced over each of them in return before landing on the little boy once more. His mother must have noticed her gaze, as she gently pulled her son closer.

"There ya go, see? That look like a walker to you?"

The boy looked up at his mother. "I thought…"

"Don't worry about it, kid," Roy interjected, "jus' don't let yer fear get the better of yer sight. Or any other part o' ya fer that matter."

"Now," he addressed the whole group, "before I can let ye stay, I'm gonna need to check fer bites."

"I can assure you that none of us are bit," the police officer said calmly.

"An' I believe yer tellin' the truth, officer, but a few weeks ago some folks came here sayin' the same thing. Next thing you know one of 'em turns and I've got four more dead bodies. It's just a precaution, I'm sure ya understand. I'll have Jessica check on yer women, if that makes ya more comfortable."

The officer looked torn before the mother of the boy spoke up. "Rick," she said to him calmly, "it's fine." Keira watched the man almost visibly relax at her words. _This must be her husband; the boy's father_. The man, Rick, shared a look with his wife, then nodded to Roy in agreement with his terms.

"Well then, let's get 'er done quick so we can all sit down and relax, shall we?" Rick offered. He turned back to Keira. "Go on and get those ready," he said, gesturing to the three dead animals hanging about her. "Introductions can wait, these folks look hungry."

Slowly, reluctantly, Keira pulled away from her spot on the parking lot pavement and went around the back of the motel. She pushed everything onto the picnic table set up out back and got to work skinning the animals as quickly as she could. She wanted to get back inside, she wanted to know about these people. _Eleven of them. How did they keep eleven people alive? And two children._ She slowed her pace, the knife feeling heavy in her hands. _I couldn't even keep one child alive_.

She shook herself from her brooding and finished with the rabbit she was skinning, cleaning it out as best as she could and putting the meat in a pot with the rest. She brought it to the kitchen where she ran into Martin.

"Oh hey, you're back. How was the hunt? Catch a lot?" She showed him the pot full of rabbit and raccoon meat in response. "I'll take that as a yes," he said, taking the pot from her. "Can you believe how big that group that came in is? Looks like there's a lot more of us out there than we thought. Think about it: if there are other groups that big around, we might all still have a chance."

_I wouldn't go that far._ Keira had tried to forget about wishful thinking, and seeing the giddy little smile on Martin's face reminded her of how dangerously foolish it could be.

"Help me bring these out, will ya?" He handed her a pot and a pan, both holding pieces of the now clean meat. He grabbed another pan of meat and, after a moment, a jar of potatoes. "Might as well, huh? I mean, this is a pretty special occasion. Put out a nice spread, have ourselves a feast."

Rabbit and raccoon meat and potatoes; quite the feast indeed.

Keira could hear quiet voices as they approached the motel lobby. Roy and Jessica moved some of the furniture around to make room for everyone while she and Martin placed the pots and pans on the wood-burning stove. Wade had already made himself comfortable on the only recliner.

"Nice place you found here," the curly-haired man said, leaning on the arm of one of the couches.

"Didn't have to find it," Roy replied, "it's mine. Owned the place fer a good long time."

"Well we appreciate you opening your home to us," the police officer said.

Roy nodded. "Food won't be ready fer a bit. Why don't ye introduce yerselves?"

"Rick Grimes," the officer said, shaking Roy's hand. "Sheriff of King County. This is my wife Lori and my son Carl." Keira's eyes fell back on the little boy. _How old is he? Ten? No, maybe not ten, but he's not a teenager. Eleven maybe…_ He saw her watching him and stared back curiously, but Keira was the first to break.

"My depute, Shane," Rick continued, gesturing to the curly-haired man.

"Carol and her daughter Sophia." The short-haired woman holding her little girl close.

"Dale." The older man with the fishing hat, taking in the décor of the room.

"Andrea." The blond woman sitting on the far couch, looking like she might be sick at any moment.

"Glenn." The young Asian man sitting on the floor.

"T-Dog." The Black man sitting next to Andrea, hands clasped in front of him.

"And Daryl." The man with the crossbow, now strapped to his back, leaning against the wall.

"Good to meet ya," Roy said. "Name's Roy. This here's Wade and Martin, the young lady there is Jessica, and you've already met Keira."

"Food's ready," Martin said, serving the meat and potatoes into various mismatched plates and bowls. Keira helped Jessica pass around the dishes to their guests before taking a seat themselves.

"So then, you folks are prolly comin' down from Atlanta, huh?" Roy asked, as everyone dug into their meal.

A solemn look passed over many faces. "Thereabouts, yeah," said Shane. "If you're thinkin' of heading that way, don't bother. City's overrun, outskirts are overrun, CDC's blown to hell." He shot Rick a scowl that did not go unnoticed.

"I'll make a note of it," said Roy. "How'd ya end up at the CDC then? Did ya find any—"

"Know what, how 'bout you answer some questions, man?" Shane barked.

"Shane—"

"No, Rick. I ain't gonna sit here an' tell my life story 'til I know who I'm dealing with."

Roy gave a grim smile. "I give ya food an' shelter, an' that's still not enough for ya, is it? Well hell, I'm nothin' if not generous. You wanna know 'bout us, fine. Like I said, this motel's my place, used to be me an' my wife's place. When the world started endin', folks were all rushin' down Interstate 85, tryin' to find refugee camps and the like. We had a few stop down here to stay a couple nights, like there was no rush er sumthin'. Turns out one of 'em's bit, infects most o' the others, including my Angela. Had to put 'em all down. Me an' Wade were the only survivors. Few days later, Martin shows up from the reserve, picked up Jessica on the way. I'd known Martin before, so naturally I let 'im stay. He helped me dig the graves."

"We're sorry for your loss," Rick said. Roy just offered him a nod of thanks.

Keira looked around the room to see everyone in a state of sorrow, some more upset than others. Andrea couldn't seem to focus on anything but a patch on the floor, Dale couldn't seem to focus on anything but Andrea, and T-Dog had his eyes closed in some sort of silent prayer.

She turned to find Shane watching her. "What about you?"

Keira, of course, could not answer him, and felt that even if she could she would not know what to say. She remained silent as all eyes fell on her.

"Keira doesn't speak," Roy answered for her. "Martin found her a couple weeks back, in the middle of a yard full of walkers she'd taken out. She was clutchin' a little body fer dear life, we figure it was her little brother. Buried him out back with the others."

"Oh my God," Carol whimpered, "a little boy? Just a kid?"

"Not much younger than yer boy there," Roy gestured to Carl, whose mother now had him wrapped in her arms. "Couldn't o' been more than 9 or 10 years old. They'd been travellin' alone, by the looks of it. Based on Keira's huntin' skills, I'd say they were makin' out pretty good 'fore they got ambushed."

Keira could barely listen as Roy told what he knew of her story. _No,_ she thought,_ he doesn't know anything._ She refused to lift her gaze back to the group, afraid of what she might see: sullen faces, horrified expressions, looks of pity. _I don't want pity. Pity doesn't bring him back, it just reminds me that he's gone._ Only when Rick spoke up did she look at them again.

"We've lost people too."

_That's right, but no children I bet. You don't have your little boy's blood on your hands._

Despite Shane's earlier complaints, Rick elaborated. "We were camped by a quarry just outside Atlanta, got 'ambushed', as you put it. We lost a lot of good people: Andrea's sister Amy, Carol's husband Ed, and a few others. One of our men, Jim, got bit; had to leave him behind. There were no refugee camps so we… I wanted to check the CDC, see if maybe anyone could help us. The only person there was Dr. Jenner, but there was nothing he could do. The building went through decontamination – sort of a self-destruct bomb – and we just barely got out of there. Another one of ours didn't make it."

"They were caught in the blast?" asked Martin, awed by their story.

"She stayed behind," T-Dog finally spoke. "Didn't want to risk it out here anymore. She died of her own free will."

That was when Keira saw it. These people were drained, defeated; the world had not been kind to them, or anyone else for that matter, but it was more than just physical exhaustion. They had gone through so much loss so quickly that they had no idea how to cope with it. They were fooling themselves into thinking they had moved on before even understanding what was happening. Their friends and families were dying before them, and instead of mourning they were being forced to run for safety._ But there isn't a safe place in the world._

She tapped Jessica on the shoulder and signed something to her.

"What's she saying?" Lori asked, watching Keira's hands paint the air with words.

Jessica watched carefully before responding. "She wants to know what the woman's name was, the one who died at the CDC."

T-Dog was the only person to respond. "Jacqui," he said, "her name was Jacqui."

Keira nodded in understanding and returned to her reserved state.

"We lost one more back in Atlanta," Rick interjected. "Daryl's brother."

"Merle ain't dead," Daryl shot back, "y'all just misplaced him." No one offered any sort of reply or explanation.

"Well," Roy began, "you folks have certainly gone through hell and back, ya need some rest. We all do. C'mon, I'll show ya to yer rooms."

The group gathered themselves to follow Roy upstairs, giving their plates in. Dale leaned in towards Martin as he handed his plate back.

"That was delicious, by the way. I'll admit, I didn't think rabbit and raccoon could actually taste good."

Martin couldn't help but smile. "A little salt and garlic goes a long way. Rest easy, brother."

Keira decided she liked him. She liked that he remembered how to smile.

She watched the group ascend the stairs, looking as though they'd been waiting to sleep for days. Keira's heart skipped a beat when the boy looked back at her, and she suddenly wished that she remembered how to smile like Dale. Instead, she grabbed her usual blanket off the hook by the door and went outside to sit by her brother. She heard footsteps on the balcony above, and found Rick taking a moment to compose himself, leaning over the railing and taking deep breaths. It was some time before he noticed her there in the little graveyard. They locked eyes for a moment, a confused look passing over his face, no doubt wondering why she was sitting out in the grass. Eventually, he heaved a sigh and returned inside.

The man was obviously the leader of his group, and she couldn't imagine what he was dealing with. All this time, she had thought hers was the worst pain; to lose a family member, to rid a child of life and then try to live with herself afterwards, all because of a promise. But this man was trying to protect ten other people, and had already lost at least four. She felt ashamed for not thinking about other people, but there were so few nowadays, it was easy to forget.

Looking at Ethan's cross, she rose from her spot and went to the pile of wood by the house, returning to the graveyard with some small pieces and a knife. She brought the knife to the first piece of wood and began carving.

J-A-C-…

* * *

**A/N: I'm baaaaaack. Sorry I was gone so long. That chapter was kind of a trial to write, but now that it's done I get to start making Keira interact with Team Atlanta, yay!**

**Also, THE WALKING DEAD HAS RETURNED! AND IT IS AWESOME!**

**D-D-D-D-DROP THE DEAD!**

**And when I get to Season 3 with this story, I'm gonna have so many more feels. Robert Kirkman, I both love and despise you, you evil genius you.**

**Thanks for all the faves and follows people! PLEASE REVIEW! :D**


	5. Laid to Rest

**A/N: Sorry sorry sorry for being gone so long. Stuff got busy and my inspiration kind of disappeared for a while. Thanks Hamburgers For Orphans for reviewing and giving me some motivation, as well as Ravenclaw Slytherin! And thank you for all the faves and follows everyone, you people are awesome!**

**Note: Italicized bold writing is Keira communicating in a way that people can understand. (i.e. Jessica translating, writing on paper, etc.)**

* * *

Laid to Rest

* * *

Keira liked watching the sunrise. It was warm and bright and calm. It was proof that the world hadn't quite ended yet, that it continued to spin on. It was something beautiful and familiar, and you could see it from anywhere. She liked that.

"Hey," a voice called out from behind her. Jessica approached her with a plate of food that she took gratefully.

"Those are new," she gestured to the four new crosses in the little graveyard. "There aren't more bodies are there?" Keira shook her head. "Oh… okay then..." Jessica slowly moved away to return inside the motel, not bothering to inquire any further. _The only person here who speaks my language can barely look me in the eye._

Keira finished her meal in solitude, gazing at her unfortunate masterpieces sticking out of the earth. A small circle of rocks decorated the grass in front of each of the four new graves, another in front of Ethan's cross. Inside each circle, small twigs and dry leaves awaited the spark of a flame. She had left the other graves bare, for Roy had assured her that his wife had passed on long ago. She envied how he spoke of her so easily, how he acted as though her death was something he'd expected. She could not take death as he could, as something that naturally happened, especially not now. She had never thought of death as some natural occurrence, and now the dead did not even stay dead. Death was an accident, an eternal illness, an abrupt end.

And it could find anyone.

Rising from her spot, Keira strode into the motel, placing her plate in the sink. A few curious pairs of eyes followed her as she crossed through the living room and towards the front desk. She shuffled through its contents for a moment before retrieving her prize: a lighter. She returned to the living room and slowly approached Rick. Focused on his conversation with Shane and Roy, he didn't notice her until she tapped him on the shoulder.

"Can I help you?" he asked, looking up at her in confusion.

Keira pointed at him, waved her hand in a 'come' motion, and pointed to herself.

"Think she wants ya to follow 'er," Roy assisted.

"What for?" Rick asked, his brow furrowed.

Keira just repeated the gesture. Rick looked to Roy for some sort of explanation, but only received a shrug of his shoulders. He contemplated for a moment before rising from his seat and grabbing his hat and gun.

"Lead the way."

She moved to make her way out the back door, but stopped halfway. Shane, Lori, Carl and Dale were all watching them with keen eyes. She gestured to the entire group, made the 'come' motion again, and pointed towards the back door, turning to walk out of it. She heard some of them shift to get up.

Keira led Rick out to the graveyard, squinting at the sun that slowly rose above the horizon. It would have been a beautiful scene, really, if it hadn't also been so sad. She stopped and turned to Rick.

"This is where your group buries your dead, then," he said, as other members of their groups trickled out of the motel to join them. "Why're you showing me this?"

She pointed to her eye, then to the new row of crosses. Slowly, hesitantly, he approached them, kneeling down to get a better look. He removed his hat and drew a hand across his face as he finished reading the inscriptions.

"Rick?" Lori asked from behind Keira. "What is it?"

He rose and spoke, pointing to each cross as he did so. "Jacqui, Ed, Amy, Jim."

The group remained still, unsure of how to react. Andrea turned away from the scene and let out a shaky breath. Keira beckoned Jessica over, asking her to translate.

"_**They deserve a proper goodbye.**_"

There was a moment of silence. "We already buried our people," Shane jabbed. "You tellin' me you want us to do it again?"

It got impossibly quieter.

"We didn't bury Jacqui."

All eyes were on T-Dog as he broke the silence. "We never got to bury Jacqui," he repeated. "We couldn't bury her."

Guilt flashed across Shane's face. Keira looked around the group and continued.

"_**You may have buried them, but you did not lay them to rest. They are haunting you. You need to let them go. You need to help them move on, so that you can.**_"

She moved towards Ethan's grave and got down on her knees, sparking the lighter and bringing it to the circle of dry grass. The flame caught, the fire spread, and for a moment she just watched it. Taking a deep breath, she rose and walked back to the group, stood directly in front of T-Dog, and handed him the lighter. He nodded in understanding and took it from her, lighting Jacqui's circle. He handed it off to Carol, who lit Ed's grave with shaky hands, and she handed it to Dale, who honoured Jim. But when the time came for Amy's grave, Andrea refused.

"Please, Andrea, this'll be good for you," Dale pleaded, trying to hand her the lighter.

That seemed to strike a nerve as Andrea shot him a glare. "And who said you get to decide what's good for me, Dale?"

She stormed back into the motel, leaving Dale to stare sadly after her. Lori stepped forward.

"May I?" she asked, taking the lighter from Dale and doing the honours for Amy's grave. Keira closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. She felt satisfied to have helped these people chase away their ghosts, as though she had been meant to do it all along. Opening her eyes, she watched the fire burn on Ethan's grave. _Goodbye, little brother._ But she knew she didn't mean it; she could never really say goodbye to him.

"You're right," Rick said, "we never really got to grieve properly. Digging graves isn't the same as letting them pass on. Thank you."

She nodded.

He followed her line of sight to Ethan's grave. "I'm sure your brother would be proud of you for pulling through like this."

She tried to smile at that, but she couldn't bring herself to.

"What are they?" Glenn asked quietly. "The symbols on his cross."

Of course. To them, it must have looked like nothing but four strange symbols under Ethan's name, but it meant more than they could ever know.

"It's Cherokee," Daryl said. Keira was not the only one to look at him in surprise. He shifted uncomfortably under everyone's gaze.

Rick turned to her. "What does it mean?"

Keira crossed her arms over her chest and then uncrossed them, pushing them out to the sides and turning her wrists outwards as she did so.

"_**Free.**_"

* * *

It was a good few minutes before the group dispersed and went about their own business. Keira stayed behind a while longer, watching the flames burn quietly. Her makeshift meditation was interrupted by someone tapping her on the arm.

"Hey." The little boy, Carl. Her breath caught as she stared at him beside her.

"Y-You forgot Dr. Jenner," he mumbled, looking around bashfully. "I mean… he wasn't part of our group, but he deserves a goodbye too."

She felt her heart swell. As young as he was, and even in the midst of everything that was happening, Carl still understood the need for compassion. _A child who still believes in humanity; maybe there is some hope._

"Can you make another one for him?" he asked.

She nodded and retrieved some scrap wood and twine, noticing Lori by the motel keeping a close eye on her son. Keira returned and sat down, motioning for Carl to join her on the grass. He did so and watched closely as she chose the right sized pieces and wove the twine around their intersection. She pulled a short hunting knife from where it was holstered near her boot and began carefully carving the name. As she got to the 'J', Carl stopped her.

"Can I try?"

Keira looked towards his mother who continued to watch them from afar. _Probably doesn't want him dealing with knives._ A little unsure, she instead took his hand and placed it on top of her own that rested on the knife, hoping he would understand. Evidently, he did, as he began guiding her hand to finish Jenner's name. She took the cross and went through the same procedure as the others, creating a small grave with a burning circle for Dr. Jenner. She looked over to find Carl watching her again.

"Do you think he'll make it to Heaven now?" he asked innocently.

Keira nodded. How could she not? The idea of an afterlife, of a paradise after this hell, was one of the only things that kept her going.

He nodded in return. "It's good that this is here," he said, referring to the grave. "Now people will remember him."

"Thanks," Carl said. He smiled at her.

And Keira smiled back.

* * *

**A/N: So yes, there it is. A moment of mourning for Team Atlanta. And some Carl/Keira bonding. (Aw look, she remembers how to smile!) Sign language is interesting to write. I hope you get the gist of the movements. I'll only describe them when I feel it's necessary or important. By the way, don't know how well I described it, but that is the actual ASL for "free".**

**Um... what else? I mentioned in a previous chapter, the word on Ethan's grave is "**_**Asequui**_**" which you now know is Cherokee for "free" or "freedom". If anyone who is Cherokee is reading this and I translated that wrong, I apologize, I tried. :P**

**And HOLY JEEZ is Walking Dead Season 3 ever getting intense! So excited and nervous for when I eventually get that far in the story. :D**

**Again, sorry I've been gone so long. But next chapter has lots of DARYL DIXON so make sure you come on back. :)**

**PLEASE REVIEW! :D**


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